Friends and Fiascos
by Winter Winks 221
Summary: My 2019 Advent Calendar Challenge, started very... very... very late! :)
1. Welcoming a Returning Friend

From Book girl fan: Welcoming a returning friend

….

I barely glance up from my chemistry set as I hear a familiar trend of footsteps on the carpet-I was intently watching a mixture of nitrogen triiodide bubbling in my conical flask, ensuring that nothing disturbed it- lest it accidentally reacted.

"Holmes, Mrs. Hudson says there's a visitor to see you," my flatmate said gently, tapping my back lightly for acknowledgement.

"Watson, please- this mixture is fragile." I muttered, waving my hand with patient dismissal, like one shooing a persistent bee. "I need my full and utter concentration to see this experiment through."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I'll explain my hypothesis later, if you so desire." I replied monotonously.

"Holmes, I do hope that experiment isn't dangerous." Watson chided. I rolled my eyes.

"It's no more so than what I'm used to, my dear Watson- though you would hardly approve, considering your profession and sentiments for my safety and wellbeing. The slightest disturbance to this experiment and it could"-

"Hello, Sherlock! Long time, no see!" A familiar voice laughed before I could finish. I jumped out of my skin, but I saved myself from disturbing the concoction on my desk.

"Hello, Victor," I replied, without turning around, "It has been too long." Despite the rude welcoming, I could feel a grin begin to emerge on my face.

"Indeed, it has. I've heard all about your adventures in the Strand. Mikey must be really pleased."

"Just be grateful that _Mycroft_ isn't here." I grinned.

"Not that I was worried about him in the first place." Victor replied with a dry chuckle. "How is he, anyway? Still larger than life?" he joked, and I suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, indeed. In more than one sense of the expression." I retorted good-naturedly, before spying Watson out of the corner of my eye. "Ah, how rude of me- Watson, I do apologise. Victor, this is my flatmate and biographer, Doctor Watson. Watson, this is Victor Trevor- my old college acquaintance who got caught up in the Gloria Scott case."

"Acquaintance?" Asked Victor, with a mock hurt tone.

"You really are trying, aren't you?" I asked him.

"I aim to please, Sherly." He teased. "Besides, that's high praise, coming from you."

Suppressing an amused snort, I finally turn around to greet my old friend properly. We shook hands warmly before he turned to Watson.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor," Said Victor admiringly, giving my flatmate a brief, polite handshake. "I've read several of the cases you and Sherlock have been on. Must say, my favourite's got to be either the Beryl Coronet or the Speckled Band."

"Well, thank you very much indeed, sir." Watson replied with the warm politeness I have come to admire over our time together. "I do appreciate hearing that."

"It's a pleasure, good Doctor." Victor bowed dramatically. "I do admire fellows that are capable of writing such terrific tales- particularly since you've made Sherly the star."

I rolled my eyes in response- and then let out a yelp and a curse as something familiar and cold started sniffing at my ankle. Feeling panicked at the prospect of being bitten again, I accidentally knocked my nitrogen triiodide.

With a loud 'BOOM!' ringing through the flat, and a shattering of glass, I watched with satisfaction as the mongrel yelped and darted to hide behind Victor's ankles, whimpering.

'_Well, at least he won't be bothering me for a while,'_ I mused darkly.


	2. An Alternate Meeting

From W. Y. Traveller: A scenario or AU where Holmes and Watson meet for the first time

A/N: I recently watched Frozen 2 and I really do like the sound of elementals, so I thought of doing this for my second prompt, thus this little story. ? enjoy!

So, for quick explanation, Sherlock and Mycroft are water elementals, Moriarty a fire elemental, Sebastian is Earth. John… is John. No elemental powers.

Also, this seems to have become BBC Sherlock. Hope that's ok ?

People were boring. Sherlock Holmes had learned this truth before he was free from the confines of his nursery.

His only exception, of course, was his brother, Mycroft, who taught him so much; such as how to create things out of water; at first it had been tigers and giant rats (namely to amuse the younger Holmes brother, as well as to scare off their beastly housekeeper.)

"You see, Sherlock, not many people can perform magic like what we do." Mycroft explained, as he produced a handsome reddish spaniel with a tufty chin and floppy ears and wide eyes that could melt steel.

"We are unique."

Sherlock didn't understand what his brother meant, but he nodded obediently and played with the puppy.

….

Mycroft… they hurt me again…" Sherlock whimpered, clutching at his bleeding arm. Mycroft looked up from his book and hissed softly in sympathy through his teeth at those oozing cuts, obviously inflicted by Sebastian, an Earth elemental and close friend of Sherlock's nemesis, Fire elemental James Moriarty.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked gently- though his mind, sharp as ever, was firing off deductions, drawing conclusions.

"James beat me up…" Sherlock said quietly. "Or at least, ordered Sebastian to beat me up."

"Why?" Asked Mycroft gently.

Sherlock looked sheepish and embarrassed, which told Mycroft all he needed to know. "Sherlock, you really need to leave James alone. He's as smart as you are, and much more… well, malicious."

"I know… but he…"

"Sherly, I know you don't approve of the things he does, but he has Sebastian to help him in these conflicts."

'And I have no one." Sherlock thought, glumly.

Mycroft put his book down before gathering Sherlock up in his arms. "There, there, brother mine, I shall tend to your injuries." He said, ruffling his baby brother's soft curls.

Sherlock acquiesced. He never liked anyone except Mycroft tending his wounds. Mycroft was the only one who was gentle yet was pragmatic in his approach.

….

By fourteen, Sherlock was orphaned and under the guardianship of his big brother.

Not that he'd listened to him, anyway.

Mycroft had watched his beautiful little brother, once cherubic and peaceful, so curious and innocent- now lash out at the world and unleash all kinds of hellish drugs into his system.

….

Sherlock hisses in pain as he feels James's fiery grasp on his pale, skinny arm. He's already running late for Chemistry, and he didn't want to miss seeing his friend, Victor, who was an Air elemental, who was also in his class.

"Why are you doing this?" the pale teen hisses through tears, struggling against the grip of the older boy- and failing.

"Well, I enjoy watching you suffer." James shrugs in response, grinning maliciously as his fiery hand scalding Sherlock's skin. "You think you're so clever, crossing me. Truth is, Sherlock, you're just wasting your time. You're a clever boy- use your brains." He murmurs, dropping Sherlock's arm before skulking away down the corridor.

Sherlock tries not to cry as he sees the pink-red mark on his pale flesh, instead muttering curses and pleas for his precious morphine-

"Geez." A voice breathes in horror.

Sherlock, instinctively, was about to smash his elbow into the source of the voice in fright- but winces as he remembered his arm too late.

A sandy haired boy, about two months older than him, looks at him with shock and sympathy. Sherlock recognized him. A boy who was Completely Ordinary.

John H. Watson.

"Hey, that burn looks nasty. What did James do?" He asks.

"You saw?"

"Literally just came here and saw him let go of your arm." John replied. "Would you like to go to the nurse's office?"

Sherlock sneers at him.

"No. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're clutching at your arm above the burn. You want to rub it to soothe the pain but know you can't." John replies hotly.

Sherlock was surprised at the older boy's observation, and for once, struggled to find a witty comeback.

"Is the great Sherlock Holmes lost for a comeback?" John asks cheerfully, hoping to cheer Sherlock up a little

"Shut up." Sherlock answers rudely. John just laughs.

"Please- I've heard worse from my dad." The sandy haired boy says, still grinning in amusement.

Sherlock just shrugs.

"Well, what about if I tend it for you?" John asks.

"I didn't ask for sympathy, John." Sherlock snaps.

"And I didn't ask for insubordination. Sit." John orders, gently pushing his companion's chest to guide Sherlock onto a bench.

Flustered, the black-haired teen protests. "John, really, I don't need help. I'm fine."

"Look, just let me tend to the burn, ok? I've been taking First Aid class; I can tend to that burn of yours and let you be on your way." Patting Sherlock's knee comfortingly, he flings his rucksack off his back.

"… you're not giving me a choice, are you?"

"You're not giving me much of one, either, Sherlock." John answered cheerfully, already rummaging in his rucksack for a mini First Aid Kit. "Trust me, letting someone tend to it is better than letting it get infected."

He realizes something. "Hang on, we should run that under a tap"-

"No need." Sherlock replies dully. Using his good hand, he produced a water orb, holding the glistening blue orb in mid-air.

John was amazed. "Wow, you can really do that?!" He asks excitedly. "That's so cool!"

"Oh, I can do much more than this." Replies Sherlock, apathetically shrugging his shoulders. Although, he couldn't remember the last time someone called him 'cool' and actually meant it, so he forsook his usual snarky comment.

"I wish I could do something as cool as that." John confides, watching as the orb dissolve before snaking up Sherlock's arm like a snake, caressing the red-raw skin. "I don't have any powers."

"I know."

"You do?" Asked John in surprise, as he applied cream to Sherlock's burn.

"Yep."

"My girlfriend, Mary, she's a Fire Elemental, like James. But she's actually really nice- I think even you would like her." He continued, screwing the lid back on the cream tub before grabbing the roll of bandages.

Sherlock scrunches up his nose in a childish display of disgust, which made the older boy chuckle before continuing, "My mate, Greg, he's an Air Elemental. But me? Nah, I'm just plain boring old John." He sighed in disappointment, gently bandaging the wound.

"Well, I wouldn't say that…" Sherlock replies quietly.

"Stop being nice…" John replies.

"I'm not 'nice' John. I'm being sincere- you actually came to help me when most people would walk by or taunt me."

"Heh- Hippocratic Oath, I guess." Shrugs John with a wry chuckle. "There, that's it." He finished.

"Thanks." Sherlock replies. "Hey, we're in English together, right?"

"Not sure why you're the one asking stupid questions when you get on at everyone for doing it." Quips John. "But yeah. I sit at the table on your left."

Sherlock nods. "Well, would you…"

Oh, sweet Mother Earth, what is he thinking? What if John said no? What if this didn't work out like he thought?

"Sherlock? You ok?" John asks, taking Sherlock's fingers in his hand.

"Yeah… um, thanks. For helping me." Sherlock answers awkwardly. "Would… would you like to come over to mine after school so we can work on that essay? You're… you're better at creative writing than I am."

"Of course! And what do you know about biology?"

"More than you might think. You need help with that?"

"Yeah, just have some things that aren't making sense up here." John taps his head. "Not as smart as you- you practically pass everything with flying colours."

"You are smart, John- smarter than most people in this school." Sherlock answers. "I don't do nice, remember." He warns. John just laughs again.

"You just offered to help me with Biology. I don't think your conclusion's valid anymore." John replies cheekily.

"Touché." Sherlock replies with a sheepish grin.

"So, I'm coming to yours after, yeah?" John asks for confirmation.

"Yes… It'll just be me and my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock replies with a quick bob of the head- though inside, he's bubbling with excitement at finally getting a new friend… and an interesting friend at that!

"Cool. I'll let my mum know." John tells him with an excited smile on his face.

And for the first time he can remember, Sherlock replies, "I'm looking forward to it."


	3. A Troubled Client

From mrspencil: A troubled former client

…

Four years had passed since Miss Violet Hunter had last encountered the famed detective, Sherlock Holmes, and, in an unexpected and frightening turn of events, she had found herself at the door of 221B once more.

For several weeks, going on a month and a half, Violet had been receiving letters in the post every Friday morning. What made them sinister was that the sender was hiding their handwriting by cutting out words from newspapers and placing them into the form of a message.

She had received no less than six of these ominous letters and had kept every single one. She also brought her diary, which chronicled when she received each letter and how she felt.

Fortunately, she remembered reading in 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' that Holmes had once solved a similar puzzle for his client. This knowledge, combined with the fact that his services had revealed that Violet herself was no more than a pawn in obtaining her former employer's stepdaughter's money, left her certain that Holmes- and his friend Doctor Watson, of course- were just the men to help her in this case.

Gathering up her courage and attempting to quell her nerves as best as possible, she lifted a hand towards the knocker…


	4. Watson meets Dr Elizabeth Anderson

From Hades Lord of the Dead: Watson meets someone famous

…

"Quick, quick! Is there a doctor here!?"

"I'm a doctor!" I call out to the young man who nearly bowled me over as he ran, panicked.

"Thank God, sir!" The man was no older than 23, and his face was pale and drenched in perspiration and tears. "I need your help, urgently!"

"Why? What's happened?"

"It's my friend, sir! We were… we were horse playing in my flat, up there…" he pointed to a first-floor window on the corner of the street. "I… I accidentally sent him falling out of my window! Oh, dear Lord, sir- I really and truly need your help and knowledge, lest my friend dies!"

"Take me to him, know!" I reply sharply.

And so, I follow the distressed young fellow towards the scene of the accident.

….

I was startled indeed when I found a lady was crouching over the limp, unconscious form of the man's unfortunate companion, already taking his pulse.

"Ah, you've found help!" she exclaimed, on seeing me with the distressed young man.

The man looked confused. "Yes, I said I'd get a doctor."

"Young man, I am a fully qualified physician." The lady booms, laying down the man's arm gently. "I will tend to your friend."

"Excuse me, but may I be of any… assistance?" I ask, cautiously, holding up my doctor's bag.

"Ah, good show!" The lady continues, beaming. "I could certainly do with some help."

"Alright." I kneel down on the pavement, eager to give as much aid to the lady as necessary. "How's his pulse?"

"It's very weak, but it's still present." She replied. "His neck has sustained no damage, thank goodness- but he's split his temple open." She gestures towards the bleeding gash on our patient's forehead.

I mutter a quiet oath. "Right, so he needs stitches. What else?"

"He also needs a cast for his left arm- he landed on it, rather than his head or neck making direct impact with the pavement."

"Right, I'll deal with the arm cast- you can stitch his temple. Have you got any morphine on you; in case he wakes?" I ask her.

"Yes, I should have enough to keep him sedated."

…

We aided the young man lift his friend back inside so we could work. I used the necessary materials to create plaster to fashion an arm cast, whilst my fellow doctor cleaned, disinfected and then stitched up the wound on our patient's forehead.

…

It took us the better part of an hour, but we did all we could to tend to his injuries, and we left our patient with his friend, with instructions to look after him, and we would come back in several days to see whether he would need a visit to Charing Cross hospital.

And with that, we take our leave.

….

"I must say, Doctor Watson, you were truly magnificent back there."

I felt rather baffled at the statement. "Erm, well, thank you… Miss- I mean…"

"Doctor Elizabeth Garret Anderson, at your service." She replied, with a wink. "I do apologize for the lack of introduction earlier."

It was then that her name clicked, and I fought to contain my surprise at my discovery. "I heard about how you became the first woman doctor in the history of this nation!" I exclaim.

"Indeed- and I've heard much about you and your friend, Sherlock Holmes." She replies with a wink. "I must say, I never expected to work alongside such a famed soul as yourself, Doctor Watson."

"I must say the same about you, Doctor Anderson." I reply, awed by the skill and professionalism she had shown when aiding our patient. "It truly is an honour to have honoured the Hippocratic Oath at your side."

She laughed. "Oh, you are a peculiar sort, Doctor Watson!" She tell me, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "But I can see you're a sincere man. And I must return the sentiment likewise." She added.

"Thank you." I reply. "You really don't think I'm peculiar, do you?"

"I do- but it's a good sort of peculiar." She replies. "Your adventures with Mr. Holmes prove that for one thing!"

"I have plenty I could tell you," I reply. "Are you free this afternoon?"

"Yes, I am actually. Why do you ask?"

"I though we could partake in afternoon tea, together- learn more about each other." I reply.

"Yes- why not?" Dr. Anderson muses. "It's been a long time since I've been able to do something as leisurely as this- and I do like you really, Dr. Watson."

"I like you too, Dr. Anderson." I reply.


End file.
